


Plushie

by AgentLaufeyson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fiction, Fluff everywhere, General, ITS SO FLUFFY IM GONNA DIE!, Literature, M/M, Romance, Short Stories, TOOTH ROTTIN FLUFF, fluff!, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 23:43:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2247816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentLaufeyson/pseuds/AgentLaufeyson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ohn find out a surprising, and slightly embarrassing, secret about Sherlock. And that leads to even more surprising things. JOHNLOCK FLUFF! Kisses, Cuddles, and... a Plushie?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plushie

It was a known fact to everyone that Sherlock Holmes' sleeping habits were far from ordinary. He barely ever slept, especially when he was on a case, and even when he did sleep it usually was for no more than a few hours. John Watson, a lot of the time, found himself questioning how Sherlock could go so long without even a nap. Running around London - and sometimes even other cities - trying to catch and reprimand criminals and constantly following the new clues and leads that the detective would find was quite exhausting if you asked John. This particular case keep them up until well past four in the morning. Sure, the case was solved, the criminal was apprehended and brought to justice, all of that was fine and dandy, but all the doctor wanted to do was to _sleep_.

When Sherlock and John soon returned to their flat at Baker Street, John could tell that his friend was more tired than he'd admit, even if he did try to hide it. On the cab ride back home, John noticed that Sherlock's eyelids fell closed a few times. The detective denied his claim though and passed it off simply as longer blinks or used the excuse that he was just thinking. John knew better though, and, being a doctor, he felt that it was his responsibility to make sure that Sherlock at the very least got some proper rest. Despite the protests from the other, John told Sherlock that he needed to change clothes and go to sleep. He had to coax him away from the living room, where he would be tempted to stay up and either play the violin or do experiments, and forced him off to his room. 

Sherlock flopped down onto his bed. While he didn't want to go to sleep, he did admit that the case had worn him out and drained quite a bit of his energy. The added fact that he hadn't slept for almost 72 hours before they even got the case in the first place didn't help to better the situation either. Once the detective was settled into his bed, John bid him a good night and turned to leave the room.

"Oh, wait." Sherlock said suddenly, making John stop in his tracks. "I left my phone in my jacket." He was about to get up and go retrieve it, but before he could John was by the side of his bed and pushed his shoulders, forcing him to lay back down.

"You need to sleep. Stay here, I'll get your phone." He said, almost in a commanding tone. He left the room before Sherlock utter a reply. Sherlock turn over in his bed and adjusted the blanket and pillow, trying to get comfortable but having little luck in the task.

Back out at the front room, John walked up to Sherlock's coat and reached inside the pocket where the detective always kept his phone. But, the pocket was empty. He checked the other pockets, but still didn't find the device. He took a quick glance around the floor, thinking that perhaps the phone had fallen out at some point. When he didn't find anything still, John pulled out his own phone and dialed Sherlock's number. The dial tone rang on the other end, but John didn't hear Sherlock's ringtone anywhere in the flat. 

_"Great..."_ John thought to himself. _"Either Sherlock put it on silent or he left it somehere... probablly left it somewhere while we were running around everywhere today..."_ John stopped and thought for a moment, trying to sort of retrace where he and Sherlock had gone today, and remembering if the detective had his phone then. It wasn't an easy task, but he once he started to eliminate the places that he knew the phone couldn't be, that left only a few options. _"Either he left it in the third cab we took, in Lestrade's office, or on the table at Angelo's..."_ John sighed and started back towards Sherlock's room to tell him. 

Entering the room, John said, "Sherlock, I think you left your phone back in-" He stopped mid-sentence. As he looked up he saw that Sherlock was passed out, deeply asleep and even snoring lightly. It was sort of a strange sight to John and he couldn't help but laugh at how much like a child Sherlock looked. He was laying on his side, with the blanket pulled up to where only his head was showing, his dark curls falling in front of his face slightly. It was rather cute actually.

Wait... _Cute?_ Where did that come from?

John shook the thought away and then turned around to leave the room again, planning to turn in for the night. Before he got out the door though, Sherlock shifted around in his sleep and caused the blanket to move down. John saw now that the detective was holding something in his arms under the blanket. Wait... is that a... stuffed animal? No... It couldn't be. _"No, No. It's dark in the room."_ John reasoned with himself. _"And you're on no sleep. You're just imagining things."_

With that, John walked out of Sherlock's room and went to bed himself.

The next morning went about pretty normally. Well... normal was a reletive term by 221B standards. Sherlock had already managed to almost blow up the microwave as an adverse result of an experiment. The inside of the kitchen appliance had been rendered unusable - and frankly, a bit of a toxic hazard - and they would surely have to buy a new one.

The morning continued on as it normally did. John made tea and read the newspaper while Sherlock was doing something with his microscope and blood samples.

For some reason - unknown or not, John couldn't tell - he couldn't quite concentrate on what he was reading in the newspaper article. He just kept thinking about how he saw Sherlock with a stuffed animal last night. Before, he had thought that he was just imagining thing, but now, thinking about it again, he was sure that he saw something, even if it was dark in the room. He found himself contemplating whether or not if he should ask Sherlock about it. The question was jumping around his mind, like a hyper puppy dog, practically begging to be answered. After a moment longer, John spoke. "Sherlock, could I ask you a question?"

"Of course, John." Sherlock replied, not looking up from his microscope, while he fiddled with the differant slides and magification levels.

"This probablly sounds odd, but... do you sleep with a stuffed animal?"

Sherlock froze in place for a few seconds, but then slowly rose his head up from the microscope to look towards John. "What made you come to that conclusion?"

"Uh, last night when I went to get your phone for you... I couldn't find it. When I went back to tell you, you were already asleep. You moved around and I thought I saw you holding a stuffed animal..."

There was a short pause before Sherlock replied to John again. "Well, you are mistaken. You were very tired John, more so than I was, so you mind wasn't working at full capacity due to lack of sleep, and it was quite dark in my room and would have been difficult for your eyes to distingish anything as specific as a stuffed animal."

"No, see, that's what I said too." John said, "I thought I was imagining things because that case kept us up for nearly 3 days straight, but no. I distinctly remember seeing something."

"And that 'Somthing' is automatically a stuffed animal?"

"Well, the light from the living room was shining on you're bed and it was reflected by two little shiny black shapes that looked just like plastic eyes."

"You're basing you whole assumtion on light reflection? Oh come on, John! It could have been anything." Sherlock said, his tone changing and voice rising in volume a bit.

"If it wasn't a stuffed animal, then why are you being so defensive right now?!" John argued back.

Sherlock didn't say anything right away. He simply looked at John, but not in the normal analyzing sort of way. The look on the detective's face was similar to how a child would look when he was caught stealing cookies out of the cookie jar before dinner. The look only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough for John to notice it before Sherlock's expression returned to it's previous neutral state. "What does it matter anyway? Why do you care whether or not I sleep with a stuffed animal?"

"I-I don't know, I'm just asking. I was curious."

"Curiosity kills the cat."

"I'm not a cat."

There was another pause, which caused silence to linger between the two. The amount of time that they both just stared at each other was unmeasuarable, was it seconds? Minutes? Longer than that even? Neither of them knew.

"Fine..." Sherlock broke the silence first, looking away from John's gaze "In light of your curiousity, I will be honest and say... yes... I have a stuffed animal."

"Sherlock, you're a grown man, don't you think you're too old to be sleeping with stuffed animals?"

"Do not laugh, John. I have perfectly sound reasoning behind doing so" Sherlock said, his tone once again sounding defensive for a second. His voice and expression then fell a bit and he looked away from John again, just staring at the floor. "... just... just drop the subject." He then turned away and walked back towards where his microscope was.

"W-Wait..." John said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, I just... I didn't peg you as the type to cling to childhood toys."

"Who said it was a childhood toy?" Sherlock replied.

"Oh, it isn't? I just assumed... w-why do you have a stuffed animal exactly?"

"Helps me sleep..."

"Oh.... Okay. I think I see now." John responded. It was like how a child find comfort in having a stuffed animal. It helps ease their mind and make them forget about the monsters under their beds. For Sherlock it relaxes his mind and allows him for forget about all the thoughts and memories that are always constantly abuzz within his brain.

"I sense that you are also curious as to what the stuffed animal is." Sherlock said.

"Uh.. A little bit, yes." John admitted.

 _"Sooner or later..."_ Sherlock said in his head. _"Sooner or later, he was bound to find out."_ He had just hoped that it would have been later... "Fine... I'll... I'll show you." Sherlock walked out of the kitchen and retrieved the stuffed animal from his bed. He left his room before he could decide against what he was doing, and returned to John. He didn't get but two feet into the room before John made a comment.

"It's a hedgehog?" John said, looking at the plush stuffed animal in Sherlock's arms. The stuffed rodent was light tan in colour with the spikes being blonde and the eyes green. It was roughly the size of the average teddy bear.

"Obviously, John." Sherlock responded, while he averted his eyes away from the shorter man. John looked up from the stuffed hedgehog to Sherlock's face, noticing a slight colouring of pink across his cheeks.

 _"Is he... blushing?"_ John thought to himself. _"Sherlock doesn't blush..."_ John knew that Sherlock was embaressed about the stuffed animal, but he didn't blush until he showed it to him. Until John saw that it was a hedgehog... what so special about a hedgehog? Why was Sherlock blushing now? John wanted to ask him out of shear curiosity, but he didn't want to upset him anymore that he already was. He formed his question carefully before he spoke. "...Why a hedgehog? I mean, I know you wouldn't go for the normal ordinary teddy bear, but, a hedgehog?"

"...It... it uh... reminds me of..." Sherlock said quietly, stuttering and hesitating to continue as the tips of his ears now turned red to match his equally red face.

"...Of what?"

The detective didn't asnwer right away, turning himself around to hide his face - that seemed to be even more red than before - from John. He clutched onto his stuffed hedgehog a bit tighter much like how a child clutches onto his favorite toy. Sherlock took in a deep breath and then let it out before quietly saying, "...you."

Sherlock's actions and his answer to the question took John by surprise at first and he didn't exactly know how to respond. "Me?" 

"See, this is why I didn't want you to find out." Sherlock's voice gained volume again and he turned around, walking past John to head back toward his room. "I can tell by your tone that you are mentally laughing and ridiculing me right now."

John walked after the detective and stopped him in the entryway of the kitchen. "N-No, Sherlock, I'm not trying to do that, honest. Like I said before; it's fine... it's... all fine."

"It doesn't matter, John. Forget I said anything and let me walk away with whatever dignity I have left." Walking around John again, Sherlock made another attempt to get to his bedroom. Just as before though, the doctor followed and halted his friend, this time in the living room.

"Sherlock, maybe it does matter. I'm not laughing at you. I just.. I don't understand it all... so, help me understand."

"I thought that it would have been obvious, John..." The detective stated.

"Obvious to a high functioning sociopath, like you, yes, but not for the normal-minded, like me."

"I've told you that It helps me sleep, and that it reminds me of... you.... It should be a fairly easy connection to make."

 _"Does he mean... no, of course he couldn't... could he?"_ John thought. He had thought about what sort of connection that Sherlock could have made between him and the hedgehog, and the first thing he came up with was that... but that couldn't be it... no, Sherlock was married to his work... of course he wouldn't be in... _"Why are you even thinking that?"_ John scolded himself. _"You're. not. gay. And neither is he... Well maybe he is, I don't know... No, stop it, John. Why do you care? Oh god, neither of you have said anything for who knows how long... you're both just staring at each other! You're staring at his stormy grey eyes that always seem to - No! Don't think about his eyes, that's not helping! And when did you get so close to him? This is more than too close for comfort... but you aren't uncomfortable at all... Maybe..."_

"John." Sherlock said, bringing the doctor out of his thoughts. The detective seemed to sense that John was having some sort on conflict within himself. "What are you thinking?"

"Um... Just... let me see if I understand everything here..." John replied. "...You have a hedgehog stuffed animal, and you say that it helps you sleep..."

"...Correct."

"And... The hedgehog reminds you of... me." John didn't understand that part. How was he like a spiney little rodent? _"Well, okay, your hair does kinda look like a hedgehogs spikes... And you do kinda lash out like a hedgehog when threatened... No, stop it, John. Don't encourage this!"_

Sherlock nodded, the pink colouring returning to his face - although John was fairly certain that the previous blush had never fully disappeared.

"So... connecting the dots... you get..." John trailed off, not finishing his sentence. 

His subconsious started speaking to him, almost yelling at him. _"You can't even comprehend how you feel about all this, can you John? You want to deny all of this, but you can't, can you? You want so bad to tell him that you know whats going on and that you don't approve, but you can't, can you? You're confused, aren't you Johnathan? Or that's just what you keep telling yourself. You've known this all along! It's been right under your nose the whole time... you just kept on ignoring it! Think, John! Stop being an idiot! You know it's true! Oh look, Sherlock's eyes are dialated to the point that you can barely see the beautiful grey colour of his irises that you love so much. Don't try and deny that one. You know damn well that you always stare at his eyes when he speaks. You listen but sometimes you don't hear everything he says because you get lost in his eyes. It's right under your nose, John! Right under your nose!"_

John forced his subconsious to shut up. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to consider it... but... did that specifically mean that he denied it? Did that mean that he disagreed? 

"John... I..." The detective started to say. Rather than finishing the sentence, he started acting on his mental impulse and slowly leaned down while bringing one hand up to rest it on John's shoulder and bring him closer to him. He was unsure of what John's reaction would be, and that scared him - almost to the point where he stopped right there and rushed back to his room where he could be alone to hide from the embaressment. 

But he didn't. He kept getting closer and closer to the doctor - He was pretty positive that John was simply frozen from shock of what was happening, which explained why he didn't move at all. - He didn't flinch, jump, or even blink. - He stood there unmoving, like a stone statue, his eyes staring stright ahead, not averting at all. A little further and the detective tentatively brushed his lips against John's own. It was hesitant and soft, barely qualifying as a kiss at first. Just as Sherlock began to think that this was a bad idea and that he had made a terrible mistake, John moved and responded to Sherlock's actions, returning the kiss. This surprised the detective for a second, but that quickly faded away when John rose his hands up to tangle them in Sherlock's hair. Sherlock lifted his other hand, placing it under the shorter man's chin, and raising his face up a bit. The two of the were standing so close that the Hedgehog plushie was squished between them.

The need for air broke them apart from each other. Both were a bit breathless and not to mention surprised at what had just happened. There was a few seconds of silence as they stared back at each others eyes, getting lost and searching for rescue.

It was Sherlock who tried to break the silence first but when he tried, John inturpted him. 

"Don't... don't say a word." The doctor said. He felt a bit silly for what he was about to say, but nevertheless, he went and said it. "Just... kiss me again."

Sherlock cracked a genuine smile and happily obliged.

* * *

Later on in the day, both Sherlock and John were snuggled up on the sofa. Sherlock had his head rested gently on John's chest and had his arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him... like a stuffed animal. John never expected Sherlock to be the cuddling type, but he didn't mind one bit. Sherlock fell asleep in this position, no longer needing his plushie to help him in his slumber. He had a new hedgehog now.

The hedgehog plushie didn't get thrown in a corner to gather dust, however. It found a new home. It now resided on top of the mantle, right next to the skull.

**Author's Note:**

>  **I got this Idea and I just could not leave it alone. IT HAD TO BE WRITTEN!**  
>  The image of Sherlock hugging a hedgehog plushie just seems so adorable, don't it?  
> JOHNLOCK IS OTP. IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, I DON'T CARE. LEAVE ME TO WRITE MY FANFICTION IN PEACE.
> 
> I fail at writing kisses. I'm sorry. That was the best I could do.
> 
> You can also give thanks for this to my good friend, ~[Inulover37](http://inulover37.deviantart.com). She motivated me - more like forced - to finish this.  Ehehehe!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Asta!


End file.
